Chapter 7

Antonio remained quiet, his silence an infuriating barrier between Georgina and the answers she sought. Undeterred, she continued to circle him, her determination unwavering. Frustration burned within her, fueling the urgency in her voice.

"What. So you can't speak now?" Georgina's voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation. Antonio's silence persisted, exacerbating the turmoil within her. Georgina couldn't contain her frustration any longer, and she let out a piercing scream. "Answer me!"

Startled by her outburst, Antonio stammered, his voice betraying the weight of his words. "I had no choice. I was instructed to do so." His admission hung heavy in the air, his vulnerability echoing through the room.

Georgina's anger intensified, her gaze fixed on Antonio as she stood before him, demanding acknowledgement. Her eyes burned with a mixture of fury and defiance. She made her stance clear, asserting her newfound authority. "First of all, now you address me as 'ma'am,' understood?"

Antonio's voice quivered as he replied, a glimmer of submission seeping through his words. "Yes, ma'am."

Georgina's piercing gaze never wavered as she pressed further, her questions driving deeper into the heart of the matter. "So, where is he off to now?"

Antonio's response held a hint of helplessness. "I have no idea, ma'am.

Georgina slowly walked away from Antonio, her eyes lingering on the grandeur of the mansion with intent this time. It stood as a testament to power and opulence, an intricate tapestry woven with secrets and hidden depths. As she moved parallel to where Antonio stood, her gaze was drawn to a staircase that descended into darkness, its destination concealed from view.

Intrigued, Georgina couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. She turned her attention to Antonio, her voice filled with a mixture of determination and a desire for answers. "Where does it lead to?" Her eyes remained fixed on the concealed entrance, a doorway to the unknown.

Antonio, still in his position, offered a terse response. "A storage, ma'am." His words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the enigma that lay beyond the staircase. To Georgina, it all seemed woven with secrets and hidden depths.

Georgina turned to face Antonio, her gaze steady and demanding. Antonio, sensing her unwavering resolve, responded with a hint of nervousness in his voice, compelled to clarify his answer. "Ma'am..."

Without another word, Georgina resumed her exploration, her steps leading her towards the intriguing door with two handles and tinted glass. It was just behind the staircase that led to their bedroom.

She felt a surge of anticipation. Curiosity burned within her as she tried to press down on one of the handles, her fingers searching for a way to breach the barrier. The handle remained firm, unyielding to her attempts. Georgina pushed with a bit more force, her determination intensifying. Yet, it became clear that the door was locked, denying her entry.

Frustration mingled with her determination as Georgina turned to Antonio, her gaze piercing. "How do you open this thing?" Her voice carried a tinge of impatience, a demand for access to the truths that lay hidden within.

Antonio, sensing her urgency, replied with a mix of apprehension and resignation. "He is the only one who opens it, ma'am."

Georgina's heart sank, but her resolve remained unshaken. She knew sooner or later she had to get behind this door if she was to find answers.

She cast one final glance at the locked door, its secrets taunting her from behind the tinted glass. With a determined stride, Georgina walked away.

Her day continued to unfold within the confines of Marcelo's mansion. Lost in her thoughts, she found herself standing by the very bedroom window where she had seen Marcelo earlier, when she was being accompanied by Greta. 

The mysterious elements of the garden, the locked storage, and Marcelo's private study, accessible only to him, weighed heavily on her mind. The mansion itself seemed to whisper secrets, secrets that begged to be unravelled. It was as though the walls themselves held the key to the enigma that surrounded her life.

Lost in her contemplation and hardly keeping track of time, Georgina's attention was suddenly captured by the sight of a black car, strikingly similar to the one that had transported her to the mansion on her wedding night. The memories of that fateful journey flooded back, accompanied by the chilling presence of the van that had held her captive.Marcelo had returned from wherever it is he went to. A jarring reminder that her current reality was not a nightmare she could simply wake from.

Marcelo's voice echoed through the room as he entered, a mixture of disappointment and demand laced within his words. "You couldn't come to welcome me." Georgina, still facing the window, replied in a plain and detached tone. "I’m sorry."

Marcelo's demand grew stronger, his voice filled with a commanding force. "Look at me!." Reluctantly, Georgina turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. What she saw was not what she had expected. Marcelo stood before her, his appearance disheveled, sweat trickling down his forehead, and his once-pristine white shirt marred by dirt and roughened edges. It was evident that he had been engaged in a struggle.

Georgina's eyes widened in surprise as she took in Marcelo's disheveled appearance. She couldn't help but question the reasons behind his current state. "Why are you like this?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Marcelo turned towards her, his hand reaching for his watch to take it off, as if to signify the importance of his recent endeavors. "I had some business to take care of," he responded, his voice holding an air of authority and detachment.

Georgina couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. Business? The word hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications. She searched Marcelo's face, seeking answers that remained elusive.

Marcelo met her gaze with a firm stare, conveying a sense of resolve. "Yes, business," he reiterated, his tone leaving little room for further questioning. With that, he began to remove his shirt, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. The act seemed to symbolize his detachment from the outside world, shedding the weight of his responsibilities as he retreated into the privacy of their shared space.

As Marcelo made his way towards the bathroom, his bare torso exposed, he commanded Georgina to seek the assistance of Greta in addressing the discarded clothing. "Get Greta to take care of that," he instructed, his voice carrying a hint of expectation.